And I think that maybe there are beings Where the two things coincide And they’re the same size. It’s an already inside outside, The philosophers say it’s the soul But it’s not the soul: it’s the animal or the man itself In its way of existing. In a plant, in a tree, in a flower (In everything that lives without speech And is a consciousness but not with what makes it a consciousness), In the woods that isn’t trees but woods, Total of the trees without a sum, There lives a nymph, the exterior life inside That gives it life That flowers with their flowering And is green with their greenness. ![]() ![]() ![]() Maybe something hidden lives in each thing, But that hidden thing is the same As the thing without being hidden.
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